Atlantis Shrieks
by emergencyfan
Summary: An explosion rocks Atlantis trapping Sheppard and McKay in a rapidly flooding area of Atlantis. Hope our boys can swim!
1. Sheppard

_Not mine. Don't own'em. Didn't create 'em. Stargate Atlantis and all related characters are the property of MGM as far as I can tell._

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**Sheppard**

KA BOOM ! The world tackled me. Okay, maybe not the _whole_ world but it sure felt like it.

The echo slowly died away and I found myself lying on my stomach under a pile of rubble. Dust still hung thickly in the air and emergency lights cast a dim glow. My ears were ringing.

"_What the fuck happened?"_ I wondered, though I only managed to articulate one of the words…

"Fuck?"

"Boom," agreed Rodney from somewhere in the rubble to my left.

"Whappened?"

"Dunno."

Great, at this rate, we'll be up to sentence fragments by the end of the week. I tried to move but found I was too tightly pinned. Upon further reflection, I decided it was also hard to breathe and my right leg ached like nobody's business.

"Stuck," I gasped.

"Yeah, give me a minute."

A record five words _and_ a complete sentence - trust Dr. Rodney McKay, Atlantis Mensa Chapter President, to be the one who excelled. I heard the sounds of crashing debris as he tried to work his way free. He must have succeeded because a cloud of dust suddenly rained down on me and I had a very intimate view of a dusty boot.

"Are you hurt?"

"I think my leg's broken."

"Help will be here soon, Major," he said encouragingly.

"Are you sure they even know?" As I remembered, it had been just the two of us checking out this lab and we were in a pretty isolated area of Atlantis.

"I'm pretty sure the _deafening_ alarm will give them a hint," he said, pointing upwards at no place in particular.

"Oh. I thought that was just my ears ringing."

He grabbed a sturdy leg from a now not-so-sturdy pile of toothpicks that had probably been a worktable just a few minutes ago. After a bit of prying, I felt a weight lifted and it was much easier to breath. I could even turn at my waist a bit and get a better view of the pile of stuff that was pinning me to the floor. "Thanks!"

"My pleasure." He continued to pry up chunks and push or throw them to one side.

"Stop, stop, STOP! WRONG WAY!" I exclaimed as a piece of beam began to separate my hip from its socket.

"Sorry."

"See if you can move that bluish chunk off crap off of me so I can squeeze out of here."

He had to dig up another table leg and rearrange some of the wreckage before he could get the leverage to lift it far enough for me to crawl out. Exalted and somewhat nauseous from my painful escape, I turned over on my back and concentrated on trying not to black out.

Rodney let go of the table legs and the beam came crashing down. The impact sent several shards of debris catapulting into the air and a large cloud of dust fell from what was left of the ceiling. We both instinctively threw our arms over our heads for cover. There was an ominous creaking noise from somewhere that could be heard even over the alarm. "Jesus, Rodney, be careful!"

"Sorry," he said, lowering his arms cautiously and shaking off the latest layer of dust.

He crawled over and examined my leg. I could see that he was sweating and shaking from his exertions. Not one for heavy physical labor, our boy, Rodney.

How bad is it?"

"How should I know? I'm not a medical doctor."

He turned back to the pile of crap that had tried to smother me. Using the proper respect this time, he wiggled the table legs free and used one of them and strips torn from his lab coat to start splinting my leg. I made a few choice comments about his medical skills and he told me what I could do with the table leg. I replied that it would probably be a damn sight less painful than what he was doing with it at the moment.

"There, that's the best I can do."

I chanced a look, "Could be worse."

"Yeah?" he puffed up a bit.

"I could have broken both legs."

He deflated. "Shouldn't you try to wiggle your toes or something?"

"Probably, but it'd hurt like hell and what would it accomplish at the moment?"

"Fair enough."

The alarm stopped and we were plunged into eerie silence. We sat wheezing in the dim lighting for several minutes.

"I wish they hadn't turned it off. It makes the creaking seem louder."

"Come on, Rodney, don't tell me you were one of those people who just keeps turning up the radio when their car starting making a strange noise." I could tell by his perturbed expression that I had hit a nerve.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just because you can't hear it, doesn't mean it's not there." Still, he was right, the groaning and creaking was disconcerting.

I gazed intently through the sifting dust, trying to get a better idea of our situation; though sitting on the floor with one leg splinted straight out in front of me didn't give me much of a vantage point. "Shit," I said, somewhat awed by the damage, "Did we blow out the next chamber too?"

"At least." He squatted down beside me. "Did you forget some C4 you squirreled away down here from the Genii or something?"

"C4 doesn't just explode for no reason," I corrected him automatically. "And before you ask, I didn't touch anything."

He scowled at me. "You wouldn't necessarily have to touch something, would you? You could have just 'thought' at it."

"So I was broadcasting 'blow the crap out of us' thought waves and some ancient device picked it up? Is that what you're saying?"

"No." He dumped accusatory tone but continued to grill me. "Could you have thought 'on' at something, by accident?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." And I was. Mainly because I remembered what I _was_ thinking right before I was body-slammed to the floor by half the east wall. Rodney had been in the middle of some mind-numbing techno-babble about the naqueda generators that only another triple doctorate physicist would have been able to understand. I had tuned him out and was thinking about Antarctica; how much quieter and peaceful it had been there as opposed to being on Atlantis - more specifically, as opposed to being in the vicinity of Rodney on Atlantis.

"_Rodney, John, if you can hear me, we're working on getting you out of there," _came Weir's calm and reassuring voice over the speaker system. It was distant and tinny but it was music to my ears! Too bad we couldn't return the favor. The nice thing about the headsets was that they were lightweight and unobtrusive. The bad thing was that they were not the least tiny bit explosion-proof. What was left of ours, assuming there _was_ anything left, was buried somewhere in the rubble.

"A few more details would be nice," Rodney yelled sarcastically into the empty air. He plopped the rest of the way to the floor and rummaged in the pocket of his now shredded lab coat. Pulling out a power bar, he unwrapped it and snapped it in two, offering me half.

"Yum." I said without enthusiasm, taking the bar from him.

We munched in relative silence for a few minutes. I say 'relative' because the creaking and groaning had become almost commonplace by now. I swallowed down the last of my bone-dry bar with difficulty. "You know, Rodney…"

"Shh!"

Normally I wouldn't have taken Rodney shushing me without handing back a smart-ass comment, but there was something in his body language that made me shut up and strain my ears.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Sounds like water. You think we blew out a main or something?"

"Or something."

The tone he used didn't inspire confidence. He got up, prowling the confines of our damaged room and eventually climbing over a pile of wreckage to pass out of my sight and into the next chamber. I heard a yelp and a splash.

"Rodney?" I yelled. I couldn't make out his muffled reply but there didn't seem to be any urgency in the tone so I stayed put. He reappeared shortly and made his way back to me leaving a trail of damp footprints in the dust.

"Why are you wet?" I asked narrowing my eyes suspiciously. I had the feeling I wouldn't like his answer.

"Water pressure can have an interesting affect on weakened bulkheads."

"Um. Aren't we above sea level?"

He shook his head. "Not all of Atlantis is above the water."

"Let me guess, this part of the city's below the water line." He didn't answer. He didn't have to. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. And then Atlantis shrieked. Well, more likely it was the damaged metal bulkheads screeching as they were stressed beyond tolerance but it sounded like she screamed to me. The sound of gushing water in the adjoining chamber was now unmistakable; more than that, it had Rodney's undivided attention - no small feat.

"How long before we get wet?" I asked.

He dragged his eyes away. "Not long." Lifting me to my feet, he began half dragging me backwards up a pile of debris. He paused about half way up to get a firmer grip under my arms and to give me a chance to get my good leg solidly under me. I was mildly appalled to see a thin layer of water covering the floor where I had been sitting only a minute earlier.

"You can swim, right?" Rodney asked, struggling to drag me higher as the water began gaining on us. "I mean, you military types have to learn to tread water or something don't you? 'Be all you can be' and the rest of that bullshit propaganda?"

"Oh yeah. They load you up with about a hundred pounds of gear and shove you into the deep end of a pool - and you'd better damn well make it out of there on your own, 'cause they're in no hurry to pull you out if you get into trouble. Don't worry, Rodney, I can keep my head above water."

Even standing on top of the largest debris pile in the room, the water soon passed our shins and continued rising steadily; and let me tell you, nothing quite compares to the slow agony of ice cold sea water creeping inch by inch up a broken leg. I shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. It was a mistake and I let loose an expletive as yet another sharp pain shot through my injured leg.

"So, Major, why did you join the military?"

"What?" Fine. Okay. I'd play along. "Because I wanted to fly and flying is expensive, _very_ expensive."

"So if you love to fly so much, why give it up and come to Atlantis?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." I cocked my head at him, "But I can tell you I wept with joy at the sight of the puddle jumpers."

His lips twitched in amusement. "Blackhawks, Apaches, Cobras, Ospreys, and now puddle jumpers."

"You've been reading my file, Rodney," I said suspiciously.

"Um," he had the grace to look embarrassed. "Elizabeth did ask my opinion on several potential team members before the expedition."

"You picked me?"

"Don't let it go to your head. I picked Kavanagh too."

"Insubordination, failure to follow the orders of a commanding officer…." I said ticking off what I knew would be in at least one of the reports he would have seen.

He waved away my list. "Just shows you're not the standard 'brainless military goon' type."

"I'm not so sure Dr. Weir would agree with you," I said, remembering her righteous anger when I countermanded her orders during the quarantine.

"Yes, well…We've all made some mistakes since we've been here, haven't we?" he said dejectedly.

"You?" I said, clutching my chest in feigned surprise. Rodney glared at me and wiped some water off his face. It had risen high enough so that I had splashed him a bit during my theatrics. At least it seemed to have distracted him from whatever mistakes he had been contemplating.

We were both working hard at the whole 'not panicking' thing. It helped that we had blown a sizable hole in the ceiling as well; so we had at least one more chamber full of water to go before we faced certain death by drowning. And by then, who knew? We might be above the water line. A man's entitled to his delusions.

Our best option, we had agreed, was to bide our time and tread water until the level rose high enough to give us access to the room above. At long last, I had discovered the secret to getting McKay to agree with me without arguing - make sure there's only one viable option.

It didn't take long before we had to sink or swim, so to speak. Not the most pleasant way to spend time, going slowly numb in frigid sea water, but it was actually starting to deaden the pain in my leg, so who was I to complain? I was glad to see Rodney wasn't having any trouble keeping afloat. I had been a little worried about that. I had a hard time picturing McKay in swim trunks splashing happily around a sunny swimming pool.

It was probably a good fifteen minutes before we were clumsily hoisting ourselves into the chamber above us and onto what remained of its floor.

"Any idea if we're still below sea level?" I asked.

"I was studying the floor plans of this area, not a cross section," Rodney replied through chattering teeth.

The cold had affected him more than me. I had been wearing my jacket, which even wet, helped retain some body heat. McKay had only a short-sleeve shirt and the remnants of a thin lab coat. He stumbled to his feet and weaved his way over to the door control panel. It took him several tries with stiff fingers to pry the panel off. The water began to fountain through our escape hole so it seemed we hadn't managed to climb above the waterline yet.

"McKay, do you think that's such a good idea?" I didn't know much about the intricate workings of ancient technology, but it seemed to me that standing in water while poking at the door controls may not be entirely safe. The words had barely left my mouth when Rodney was thrown backward in a shower of yellowish-green sparks.


	2. Weir

**Weir**

I was listening to Bates give his weekly report; my forearms on my desk and my hands clasped in front of me, leaning forward - projecting at least the picture of undivided attention, if not the real thing. Personally, I didn't care for the man all that much; but he was a good soldier and more importantly, he was a good match for Sheppard. Sheppard was charming as hell and he knew it. He often used his charisma instead of force, which I found refreshing when dealing with the military. It even worked, some of the time. So far only the Wraith seemed totally immune to his charms. Bates, on the other hand, was your typical 'shoot first, ask questions later' soldier and sometimes it was even 'shoot first and there won't be a need for questions.' As much as I hated to accept it, sometimes that's what we needed. I was startled out of my revere by a slight vibration through my arms.

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" His tone said he was unhappy that I had interrupted his report.

"I'm sure I felt something." I looked out the office window and saw Grodin, Zelenka, and a few techs intently studying monitors. The concern on their faces was clear to see, even at this distance. I shot Bates an uneasy glance and went out into the control room. He trailed behind me.

"Peter?" I asked.

"There's been an explosion."

"Do we know what happened?"

"We're trying to find out now."

"McKay and Sheppard?" I asked, remembering that they were supposed to be investigating an as-yet unexplored area of the city.

"They _were_ supposed to be surveying that general area," he said worriedly.

"How soon can we get a team together to check on them?"

He brought up a map on the screen. "The automated systems have closed off this entire area. The outer wall has been seriously weakened here," he said, pointing to the diagram. "For a spacecraft or an underwater city, it would be absolutely vital to isolate damage such as this…"

"At the same time, making it especially difficult for a rescue party to get to that area, understood. Sergeant Bates, please take some of your men and see what you can do."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Open a channel, please, Peter." He flipped a switch and gave me a nod. "Rodney, John, if you can hear me, we're working on getting you out of there." I just hoped someone was alive to hear it. I opened a private channel to Beckett and quickly updated him on the situation as well.

"Can we use the biosensors to try and narrow down their location?" I asked Peter.

"No, I've tried, most of the senor relays and communication pathways in that area have been damaged."

"Kurva drát!" breathed Zelenka, looking at a monitor.

"What?" asked Grodin, shifting so that he could see the screen.

"Bloody hell," he said studying the readings before turning to me. "The wall's been breeched and we're taking on water."

"Don't we have pumps?"

"They can't handle this kind of volume."

"Are we in any danger?"

"Not here, no. Atlantis automatically closed bulkheads which will limit the amount of flooding. Once we repair the damage, we should be able to pump out the water…"

"But?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in a silent invitation to continue.

"Anyone in the flooded areas or on the wrong side of the bulkheads when they closed…"

"You're saying things don't look good for our team."


	3. McKay

**McKay**

If 'you can never do anything right' was my father's favorite expression, 'you're stupid', was his mantra. It didn't matter how hard I tried or how many different ways I did something, it was never right. My life was some cruel game where the rules were forever changing and I never allowed to know what they were.

Then one morning out of the blue, when I was six years old, my mother shook me awake and told me to get dressed. She shoved a Poptart in my hand and dragged me outside into a crowd of other kids. "You're starting school today," was all she said before leaving me there. When the bus arrived, I got on with all the other kids and when it reached the school, I got off and followed them inside. From there, they all went in different directions into different rooms; soon the hall was empty of everyone except me.

You probably think I crawled off into some bathroom and had myself a good cry, but you're wrong. I stood perfectly calmly in the hallway - abandoned, ignored, and with no idea what the rules were - home sweet home.

I heard the clacking of heels and steeled myself as a teacher came around the corner. She paused, a little surprised, I think, to see me. "Is your name Rodney McKay?" she asked, kindly.

"Yes." I studied her with frank curiosity. She was wearing a pink dress with small white polka dots and her whispy blond hair was cut short, making her look like a picture of a pixie I'd once seen. What caught my attention though, were her eyes. She had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen - a light, clear, sky blue.

She half knelt on the floor to be at my level. "I'm Miss Mims, your first grade teacher," she said; and then she looked me in the eyes. It was the first time that anyone had ever looked at me like that - like I was real, like I mattered, like I was a person. I felt a tremor go through my body as my soul sang with this new experience.

"Damnit, Rodney, wake up."

I opened my eyes and found myself in the arms of John Sheppard; a thoroughly disconcerting experience until I realized that his hold was all that was keeping my head above water. I struggled to sit up but had to pause as a tremor shook me.

"Are you okay?"

You know the expression 'there's no such thing as a stupid question'? Well it's not true.

"That all depends on how you define 'okay', Major. If by 'okay' you mean that I'm currently in a race to see if I drown or freeze to death and that I've just been electrocuted; then yes, I'm okay, thanks." He ignored my corrosive wit. He was good at that. Better than anyone else, in fact. The man was practically acid-proof. I managed to gain my feet and give him a hand up.

I had already drowned once, according to the 'other' Weir. Putting aside the thought that fate may have decided on my mode of death and that there was nothing I could do about it, I returned to the door controls.

The water was fast approaching our waists and I was no closer to opening the door than I had been a few minutes ago. Panic was starting to creep in, making it difficult for me to concentrate. Another painful tremor went through my body and I lost my grip on the crystal I had been trying to manipulate. I felt Sheppard's hand on my shoulder as he gave it an encouraging squeeze. It calmed me, which was surprising. Most people wouldn't dare broach my carefully cultivated prickly exterior with physical contact. I was fully aware of it and I liked it that way. There had been no hugs in my house. No one kissed your boo-boos. Mostly you got jerked around by the arm or received an occasional smack or shove. If you were lucky, no one touched you at all.

"Come on, McKay. We haven't got all day." Sheppard gave the comments a sing-song quality.

"Quiet!" There, I had my fingers on it. It slid in with a smooth click and the door finally opened with a sigh and a gush of water. I gave him a smug smile.

"Your parents must be so proud," he quipped.

"Would that have been my alcoholic father or my religious zealot mother?" I asked.

Sheppard seemed taken aback. I'm not sure if he was more shocked by the comment or the fact that I let him see through a chink in my armor. I was a little surprised myself and chalked it up to all the freshly fried neurons floating around in my brain.

It took some more of what Sheppard insisted on calling 'fiddling' to get the door closed but it finally slid shut with a click and a splash.

I reached out my left arm in invitation, snapping my fingers at him when he didn't move fast enough to suit me.

"What's your hurry?" He asked, swinging his right arm around my shoulder for support.

"I'm cold, wet and hungry and … oh yeah, that door we just came though wasn't reinforced. I have no idea how long it will hold."

"Oh. Okay, then."

We limped down the hall. After about fifty feet, we came to a wall intercom. I tried it for several minutes without success, even going so far to dismantle the thing before giving it up as a lost cause. A bit later we found another, with the same result.

"We heard Weir earlier," Sheppard said, puzzled.

"Before half this section flooded," I reminded him. "Some of the communication system pathways must have been damaged." I leaned my forehead against the cool wall, discouraged.

"Now where?"

"I'm not sure." I gritted my teeth against the latest spasm. It left me feeling lightheaded and a little sick.

"McKay?"

"I'm fine."

"Really? 'Cause I could swear you're not."

"You know what they say," I determinedly swallowed down the nausea, "It's not the voltage that gets you, it's the amps."

"I thought ancient technology didn't use standard electrical current?"

"I was just being facetious, Major."

He let it go. What else could he do?

"What are the chances the transporters work on this level?"

Still leaning against the wall, I turned my head slightly so that I could make eye contact with him. "Oh, probably about as good as you beating Teyla in a fair fight." That earned me a wry grin and a look that promised dire consequences later. I gave him my shoulder again and we continued up the corridor.

"I'm sure I remember seeing an access ladder on the plans for this level." I looked doubtfully at his splinted leg. "Do you think you can climb?"

"You find the ladder and I'll climb it," he promised, as we headed off in what I hoped was the right direction.

As we continued down what seemed like endless passageways, I found my mind wandering back to Ms. Mims. Funny, I hadn't thought about her in years - one good zap and suddenly I'm remembering it like it was yesterday. At least it was one of the few good memories from my childhood. It was probably the happiest year of my life, actually. Larks sang in parks with sharks that made sparks. And math, I reveled in math! It had clear rules that never changed, and if you followed them you were _always_ right. There was even a field trip to the public library. Everyone choose a book, mine was on the solar system. When I got home that day I was so excited, I couldn't stop talking about it. I should have known better. My father grabbed the book out of my hand and threw it across the room. "Shut up, stupid."

I gathered up my battered prize and returned it to my teacher the next day at recess. She pulled some glue out of her desk drawer. "You can help me fix it." When she asked me what happened, I told her. She put her hand on my face and gave me another one of those soul-searching gazes. "Rodney, you are smart and anyone who says differently is wrong. Don't you dare believe them, ever!"

That summer I did little odd jobs for the neighbors just to earn bus fare so I could go to the library and lose myself in books for hours at a time. I did it almost every day. It was my escape.

"Behold our escape."

"What?" I asked, jerking my thoughts back to the present.

"I said 'behold our escape'," repeated Sheppard. He was pointing towards the ladder as if he had built the thing himself.

"Are you sure you can climb that?"

"Absolutely!"

I looked at him, unconvinced.

"Rodney, I'll climb the damn thing with my teeth if I have to if means we can get out of here."

I waved him ahead. If he slipped, I wanted to be in a position to do something and that meant I needed to be below him. He looked like he might argue the point, but to my relief he grabbed a rail and began to pull himself up. I followed a few rungs behind as we began our steady, if somewhat slow, climb to the top.

The second grade didn't start out nearly as well. I was always getting in trouble for not paying attention in class. I became something of a regular in our principal's office. She had developed this funny little sigh whenever she saw me, "You again, Rodney."

"Yes, Mrs. Ross."

"What are we going to do with you?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Ross."

"Sit here," she said, pointing me to the couch in her office and handing me a sheet of paper, "and take this make-up test."

I did as I was told. It took me about five minutes. I walked up to her desk and handed it to her.

"Rodney," again with the sigh, "Go sit down and finish."

"But I _am_ finished, Mrs. Ross." She looked at the paper and did a double-take, just like I'd seen in cartoons. "Why don't you go play outside, Rodney?"

That was new. Not once had the principal told me to go play after being sent to her office. In fact, it was usually the opposite, having to sit in the secretary's office quietly during recess. I stayed outside half the day. No one ever came to tell me to go back to class. Finally the busses arrived and I went home.

The next day, Mrs. Ross was waiting for me outside my classroom. "Come with me, Rodney." I thought I was in trouble for the previous day's extended recess; but instead, she took me to a small room with six empty desks. "Sit here," she told me, indicating the first desk. I did as I was told. She put a small booklet on the desk in front of me and handed me a pencil. "I want you to take this test and it's okay if you don't know all of the answers." I looked at her curiously but that was apparently all the information I was going to get. I opened the book and worked my way though. I didn't know all the answers, but I knew a lot of them. When I was done, she took the booklet and told me I could go play again; and again, no one came to get me.

The next day started out pretty much the same way with Mrs. Ross waiting at my classroom door and shuffling me off to the tiny classroom. Today's test was more fun though, shapes and numbers and patterns and all manner of strange things. I gloried in it. When I was done, I dutifully handed it to her and went out to the playground to wait for the bus.

That evening, my parents got a call from the school. Later, at dinner, my father beat the crap out of me for dropping a folk. Within a few days, Ms. Ross took me aside and explained that I would be in a new class with older students.

"McKay?"

I realized I had stopped climbing. "Yes, Major?" Funny, looking up the ladder was even more dizzying than looking down. I tried to focus on the rung in front of me.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. I just need a minute to catch my breath."

"Almost there," he said encouragingly.

At the top was a hatch, which thankfully opened easily. We sealed it behind us, just in case; though it was pretty obvious we had to be above sea level by now. A short search led us to another intercom.

"Third time's a charm?" Sheppard asked hopefully, sagging against the wall as I released him. His face was etched with pain. All this activity hadn't done his leg any good.

I leaned against the wall tiredly and hit the intercom control, "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

A long moment of silence followed and I felt my heart sink. I closed my eyes feeling dejected and exhausted. They snapped open when we received a sudden static-ridden reply, _"Rodney?"_

"Oh, thank God! Elizabeth?"

"_Rodney, are you okay? Is Major Sheppard with you?"_

"Present and accounted for," he replied wearily into the intercom but he was grinning at me. It was infectious and I found myself grinning back like an idiot.

There was no mistaking the relief in her voice_. "Where are you? The biosensors are down in that whole section of the city..."_

When my father died, I was in my freshman year of college. I never shed a tear and it didn't even occur to me to attend the funeral. The other lab techs seemed to think I was cold and callus; I'm pretty sure my sister agreed with them. Imagine what they would have thought of me the following summer if they had known I wept for days after receiving a newspaper clipping from my old principal, Mrs. Ross: _Helena Mims, 36, killed by a drunk driver_…


	4. Beckett

**Beckett**

Worse than children, they were, and ye had to watch them every minute or they'd be off, blithely dripping blood or other vital fluids the whole way, as if they had an unlimited supply. If they put just some of the energy they spent fightin' me intae their recovery, they'd be out of the infirmary in half the time.

I put my foot down and enlisted Dr. Weir as backup. McKay was tae stay in the infirmary until his enzyme levels were back to normal and I was one hundred percent sure he hadn't done himself any permanent damage from his 'electrifying' experience. Sheppard, at least, was resting in drug-induced oblivion - nothing like having yer leg set with pins and screws to convince you that pain-killers weren't the enemy. I knew the reprieve would be short-lived; he'd soon be chomping at the bit as well.

"Carson, stop treating me like a child."

"Then stop acting like a fractious bairn." I countered. "Rest today and you can have your laptop tomorrow, Rodney." That should have been the end to it, but then this was Rodney I was dealing with.

"Working on the laptop _is_ practically resting," he countered. "Besides, Sheppard blew it all out of proportion - it was just a little zap," he said, pinching his forefinger and thumb together, "I barely felt it."

"An then yer arse fell aff."

"What?"

"Ye must think I'm pure mad dafty."

"Could you speak Canadian, or at least _English_?"

Oh, he was good a lot of things, and not shy about saying so, but one of the things he was best at was pushin' my buttons, and dinnae he know it.

"Yer a Jammy bastard, you know that? You come in here drookit, positively Baltic. Yer damn lucky yer not hingy, guddling about down there!"

"Queen's English?" he suggested with cherub-like innocence.

"Haud yer wheesht! I said, seething.

His lips quirked. "Temper, temper," he admonished. "Just think, Carson, if only I had my laptop I'd be much too busy to chat with you."

"If you don't stop nippin my heid, yer not getting the laptop tomorrow either!"

He crossed his arms petulantly but made no further argument. I went back to my office tae cool off.

Ten minutes later, one of the nurses poked her head in my door, "Doctor? Dr. Kavanagh would like a word if you have the time."

I could see him hovering outside my office door, but bless her, she had positioned herself in the doorway so that he couldnae get past unless she chose to allow it. This day was going from bad tae worse. If it had been Zelenka, I wouldnae have objected. That man wouldn't say boo to a goose. Kavanagh was an entirely different kettle of fish. "It's alright, Kelli" I sighed, rubbing my temples and trying to forestall the migraine I felt coming on.

She gave me a disappointed look before standing to one side, allowing him to enter.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Kavanagh?"

"I need to talk to Dr. McKay."

"Dr. McKay is resting."

"There's a problem with this week's work schedule and I need to see him, it will only take a minute."

"Yer off yer heid if you think I'm going to wake him for that." My head was pounding now.

"Excuse me?"

"I willnae wake him for something that trivial. Come back tomorrow. You can talk tae him then."

"I'm not leaving here until I talk to him," he said, crossing his arms obstinately.

"Dinnae make me call Dr. Weir," I warned.

"Weir." He sneered and the derision when he said her name was unmistakable.

That was the last straw. "Bugger off, ye Midgie," I said, standing.

"What?"

I poked him in the chest, forcing him to take a step back out of the office. "Get oot."

"What are you doing?" He looked to the nurse for help but she only gave him a jaunty wave.

I kept poking him, continually forcing him back. "I've been in a Barnie or two in my day, son, and if you don't want to be knocked on your sorry arse, I suggest you leave. Right now."

"I'll be adding this to my next report to Stargate command," he threatened before scurrying out the infirmary door.

"Yer Maw cares," I yelled down the hallway after his rapidly disappearing form, then went in search of some aspirin. As I passed Rodney's bed, he cracked one eye open.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes he is, the plamph."

"I'm impressed, Carson."

"Good, now I kin die a happy man," I said sarcastically, swigging down a handful of Tylenol before returning to my office to finish some reports. An hour or so later, I was interrupted by a light knock on my doorframe. "Yes?" I said, still writing. When there was no answer, I looked up. "Oh, Dr. Weir, I'm sorry. I thought you were one of the nurses. Please sit down," I said, waving her to a chair. I waited until she had settled herself. "What kin I do for you?"

"I hear you already did."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, confused.

"Kavanagh?"

"Oh."

"Hmmm…yes, 'oh' about sums it up. So, let's see, you were on call all day yesterday while we had search teams out looking for our missing boys, and you spent last night turning Sheppard's leg into something that didn't resemble a jigsaw puzzle. I imagine you spent all day today battling with an irritable Rodney?" She waved off my attempt to reply, "A day with him in a _good_ mood is enough to wear anyone out, and I speak from personal experience. You _are_ planning to get some sleep tonight though, right?"

"Ahem…"

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. I'll just have a little chat with that nurse of yours on the way out. What's her name again? Kelli?"

I was just finishing up the last of my paperwork when the nurses made their midnight shift change. I looked up to see them both standing in the doorway of my office, arms crossed, staring at me.

"Dinna fash yourselves," I said, tidying the last stack of papers, "I'm away to my bed."

Kelli made a point of helping me on with my jacket. "Ye women all stick taegether," I complained. She smiled and walked me to the door.


	5. Epilogue Sheppard

**Sheppard**

Ask me how much I love playing the guinea pig. Go on ask me, I dare you! Beckett had found some ancient device that he was using on me. He had given me some long ass explanation with lots of words that ended with 'isms' and 'itises'. To be honest, I stopped paying attention about fifteen seconds into his narrative. The upshot was that if I was a good boy and showed up everyday to put my leg in the ancient's machine for an hour, I might knock two, maybe even three weeks off my recovery time. The downside? It hurt some - big surprise, not. But if it was unpleasant, it was at least bearable; and with the wraith likely to be at our doorstep at any moment, those were weeks I sorely needed.

Rodney would show up in the infirmary during my treatments - coincidently of course. Making small talk with him helped me focus on other things. Eventually we stopped pretending it was a coincidence and put the time to good use perfecting our latest hobby - bomb building. Not the whole thing, mind you. We were leaving out the explodey bits until later. You'd have thought Beckett would object, us kinda being the current poster children for death and destruction, the very antithesis of his Hippocratic oath. I think he was just relieved we were willing to sit quietly for an hour everyday like good little children.

It was kind of ironic, I guess, here we were building bombs on our lunch hour and had yet to figure out what had caused the explosion that led to all this. It would be weeks before the repairs were finished, days more before all the water could be pumped out of the damaged area so that it could be investigated…though by then I imagine we'll have bigger things to worry about.

* * *

I hope I didn't mangle Beckett's dialog too much. If you're interested in the terms I used, you may wish to visit the Scottish Vernacular Dictionary on-line (this won't let me include the URL, sorry). 


End file.
